


salmon

by unicornball



Series: Colors [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: DWRColorsChallenge, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of Sam/Eileen, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornball/pseuds/unicornball
Summary: It was almost Pavlovian how his body perked up, aches and pains fading to the background as he met Cas’ eyes again. Cas looked just as crazed as he felt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Today's color:_  
>  Salmon  
> salm·on (/ˈsamən/)
> 
> Salmon is a range of pale pinkish-orange to light pink colors, named after the color of salmon flesh.
> 
> _I dare say the use of the daily word was a bit of a stretch but it still counts since it does get used. heh_
> 
> _Enjoy._

Cas had _that look_ on his face the entire way back to the motel, eyes intent, gaze boring into the back of his head from the backseat. It was hard to concentrate on driving and talking to Sam with those damn eyes on him the whole way.

Sam ignored them with practiced ease, doing the post-hunt jabbering to fill the tense silence. His hand was pressed against his bruised ribs, but he was otherwise fine. He figured Sam was just waiting for the painkillers to kick in.

He was fiddling with his phone and Dean knew he was itching to text Eileen. A few more grunted answers whenever Sam tried to initiate conversation and he knew Sam would stop talking and get to it.

Dean shifted in his seat a little, grimacing at the pain in his back and the pull at the stitches in his upper arm a little. He'd had worse but Cas was acting like he'd nearly been killed.

He met Cas' eyes in the rearview mirror, hating the bruise purpling his cheek and the blood crusted around his nose and upper lip. But Cas was OK, too. Alive and aware, breathing nice and easy and looking mildly pissy as usual.

The car was barely in park when Sam threw open the door, closing it with a squeaky slam. Dean stared after him, brain catching up to the fact Sam was headed to a different room.

Well son of a bitch. He and Cas had their own room for the night. Safely away from Sam's.

It was almost Pavlovian how his body perked up, aches and pains fading to the background as he met Cas’ eyes again. Cas looked just as crazed as he felt.

As tempting as it was to slide into the backseat instead of waiting, he wasn't in the mood for cramped spaces that invariably lead to cricked necks, heads bumping the roof or elbows cracking into windows.

He got out, the sound of his door closing the same time as the back door. Cas crowded him against the closed door, eyes intense and hands on his shoulders. Dean stood still and let Cas look him over. It wasn't a close enough call to explain Cas' actions but he knew better than to complain. Cas would still manhandle him until he was satisfied and Dean wouldn't get anything fun at the end.

Cas’ hands slid down his chest and Dean had to stop him when Cas’ fingers hovered over his belt.

“Let's head inside,” he murmured. Cas grabbed his arm and he had to hurry to keep up.

Dean dug the keycard from his pocket, hands starting to shake minutely with anticipation. He barely got a glimpse of the 90s chic decor of their motel room—faded salmon and turquoise _everywhere_ —before Cas filled his field of vision.

Dean wasn't surprised he was pressed against the shoddy motel room door the moment it closed.

He sighed into the kiss, Cas tentative as usual when he was hurt. It didn't take long for Cas to groan deep in his throat and lick into his mouth, hands gripping Dean tight, but still careful of where he'd been stitched and bruised.

He let his arms drop when Cas tugged at his jacket, neither of them parting long enough for Cas to let his need for skin on skin said aloud. Cas stripped him with efficiency, hands roaming everywhere as he exposed skin. Dean just went with it, used to Cas’ need to check him over like this. He leaned away from the door just long enough to get his shirts off, hips arching forward so Cas could yank down jeans and underwear.

Since Cas couldn't heal with a touch anymore, Cas got a little more hands-on after a hunt. Especially if Dean got tossed around and took a handful of claws to his body.

Dean gave a light push to Cas’ chest until he backed away a little. He looked at Cas, hands settling on Cas’ sides. He tightened his grip, grounding Cas as much as himself. He gave a reassuring smile and slid his hands up to cup Cas' neck and jaw, fingers shaking a little as he touched the bruise.

He hated that Cas could bruise now. But it was the worst of it and he tried to let his fear go.

He barely got Cas’ pants open, a deft flick of his wrist to pop the button and drag the zipper down, before Cas was pressing against him again, like the sound of the zipper parting was some sort of cue.

Dean didn't even care he was bare-assed against the faded wallpaper, the abstract salmon and turquoise design a blur in his periphery since Cas was moving in close. He groaned with pleasure when a fist wrapped around him before he could protest or get Cas more naked. Cas pushed into his space, chests bumping, knee firm and solid between his thighs, stubble rasping and burning Dean’s cheek and neck as Cas nipped and kissed down his neck, hand moving with sure strokes.

He squirmed a little since he couldn't move much, Cas was deceptively strong even without his mojo. He moaned and just relaxed into it, hips stuttering into Cas’ fist when he started working him. It didn't take long; he was too keyed up and Cas knew just how and where to touch to get him going hard and fast. Cas’ mouth hot and hungry on his, panting wet and dirty into Dean's before moving to nip and suck at Dean's neck and jaw. Cas’ hand perfect and tight, slick and fast, and Dean was coming over Cas’ fist with a guttural moan.

It took Dean a moment to realize Cas was still rutting against him, gasping wet and loud into Dean's neck. He took a minute, catching his breath and for the wobble in his knees to fade before he slid down the wall, landing in a messy sprawl at Cas’ feet. Cas was staring down at him, eyes dark, mouth parted and red-bitten and wet.

Goddamn he was a sight.

Dean groaned softly and leaned in to nuzzle at Cas’ thigh, nosing the crease between hip and thigh. He heard Cas groan as his hips twitched forward, eager to get Dean's mouth on him. He was just as eager, licking his way across, dragging his chin along the sensitive skin, palms dragging along the fine hairs on Cas’ thighs. He hummed softly at the scent and taste of Cas filling his senses, lips and tongue teasing the base.

He slid his hands up Cas’ thighs, around his hips to grab a firm cheek in each hand, kneading a little. As annoying as it was for Cas to slip out of bed at ass o’clock to jog with Sam, it did amazing things for his ass and Dean shamelessly fondled him. He hummed when Cas’ hands settled on him, one in his hair and one on his shoulder, hips twitching forward again. He licked down and finally slid Cas into his mouth, reveling in the gravel-deep groan Cas made as he stopped teasing and bobbed his head down.

He gave his own muffled, pleased groan at the feel Cas heavy and wet and perfect on his tongue. He'd probably never admit how much he liked this—on his knees, Cas’ dick in his mouth—but he didn't think he had to. Cas seemed to know, judging by the look Cas gave him as he looked down and watched Dean.

Cas’ eyes fluttered closed with a breathy moan and it was the only warning he had before Cas was gripping him tight, going still with a hard thrust of his hips as he came. Dean couldn't help showing off, swallowing around Cas and pulling off with an obscene wet sound that always made Cas twitch and sigh.

He caught his breath, forehead resting on Cas hip for a moment. Once he heard Cas’ breathing settle, he worked Cas’ pants off before getting to his feet, hiding a wince as his knees protested. Cas was orgasm lazy, body moving with ease as Dean carefully unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the messy pile of his own discarded clothes.

He didn't comment when Cas slotted their fingers together and tugged him towards the bed. They flopped gracelessly, ending up in a tangled sprawl for before separating, still flushed and sweaty.

Dean kept their hands linked, looking over at Cas with a soft smile. Part of him had grown to hate the Hunt, the risk to them all now that they have something good to live for. But another still thrived on it; the rush of a job well done, knowing they'd helped people, sometimes even saved people. Being together with Cas and Sam doing something he was good at. Something that mattered.

He groaned softly as he stretched, feeling thoroughly spent and looser than he had in... awhile. It was almost like being drunk—without the aftertaste of whiskey and threat of hangover. Everything was still pleasure-numb and he ached in so many places, but it was still awesome.

Cas was splayed out next to him, starfished on the bed and looking smug. So smug Dean almost wanted to pinch him.

Not that the smug little bastard hadn't earned the look.

He flopped over, throwing an arm and a leg over Cas’ side, too blissed and sated to give a shit he was basically snuggling. Cas’ hand settled on his back and he managed to get a little closer.

He let his eyes close, enjoying the warmth of Cas and the exhaustion that came from a long day and awesome sex. He hummed softly when Cas’ hand slid into his hair, dexterous fingers perfect against his scalp, and he felt the soft press of lips on his temple.

 


End file.
